


242 Templeton Way

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [217]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coruscating Saturday evening for our lads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	242 Templeton Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suechosethis (sue_chose_this)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sue_chose_this/gifts), [obi1mcgregor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obi1mcgregor/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia
> 
> References:  
> [Galadriel](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galadriel)  
> [Restaurant Galatina](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Restaurant_Galatina)  
> [Star Wars Food and Drink in Database Forum](http://starwarstales11494.yuku.com/forum/viewtopic/id/830)
> 
> Thanks to Sue for her beautiful work on our lads' home.

  
  
[Sue](mailto:suechosethis@gmail.com)'s beautiful manip

Ian snuggled closer into Quinn's side with a contented sigh as they strolled up the sidewalk, turning the corner onto their block in Alder Run.

It was dusk on a blustery Saturday in early November, and the wind had actually seemed to hurry their footsteps along as they walked past the small brick ranches in their neighborhood until they were almost home. They'd mailed a package at the post office on the main street, Aldera Avenue, before eating dinner at the Galatina Restaurant next door. It was Amy and Danny's seventh anniversary next week, so Quinn had picked out a Lenox swan made of cream-colored porcelain as a gift for them.

He'd also gotten one for Ian and himself; they had collected Royal Doulton "Lord of the Rings" figurines for years, with their family giving them the sculptures as presents, as well. As soon as Quinn had seen the swan, he'd thought of their miniature of Galadriel, the fairest lady of the Lothlorien elves. She was made of the same cream porcelain as the swan they'd just mailed to the Walkers, and he knew that Galadriel would look wonderful placed inside the swan, since it would seem like she was sailing on the Silverlode River in a swan boat from Lorien.

Lights were on in most of the homes along the way, warming Quinn and Ian almost as much as walking with their arms around each other. Quinn's fingers rubbed over the well-worn corduroy of Ian's jacket, while Ian circled Quinn's tweed-covered waist. The only patch of Ian's body which felt truly warm was covered by Quinn's huge hand. Their Williamsburg boots crunched leaves underfoot as they ambled along; it seemed as if the leaves were a constantly renewable resource, even though orange trash bags with jack o'lantern faces were stacked by the curbside, holding thousands of others that had fallen earlier that week.

Quinn loved walking in the twilight with his herven by his side; he treasured these moments outdoors -- drunk on the autumn breezes in the way he hadn't gotten on their Andoan ale with dinner -- just as he did the moments yet to come -- their little home waiting for them, filled with the pups yapping, the fireplace crackling, and Ian's warmth permeating it all.

They walked by Mr. Jefferson's house on the corner, Quinn smiling when he saw that Laurence still had his Halloween decorations up. Laurence was famous in the neighborhood for celebrating the holiday until Thanksgiving came around. And he'd outdone himself this year; ghosts haunted the garage door; jack-o'lanterns lit the path to the entrance; and a witch perched in the big oak tree near the living-room window.

Next door was the brick ranch of a young family, new to the neighborhood; they'd only seen the couple at a distance so far, but the tricycle by the lawn and the yellow Nerf ball on the grass let them know a young child now lived there, too. Ian was thinking of inviting them over for spiced cider and cookies sometime next week. The cheery look of the newly painted mint-green door and shutters made him smile, even though they seemed a little darker in the gloaming. When the Patels had decided to move to California, they renovated the house to make it sell faster, and the whole neighborhood benefited from it.

Then came the Changs' home, with its wishing well in the center of the lawn and a chestnut tree covering most of the yard. The tree was older than their house, and Han and Lelia loved it. They would fly in the tire swing on the sturdy lowest branch, and Quinn could hear them laughing even in his office. He, Ian, and the children had raked leaves in the front and back yards last Saturday, just before the professors treated their Padawans to milkshakes and hamburgers at Rex's Diner.

They finally reached the sidewalk leading into the path to their front door and heard a faint 'Hello' on the breeze. Turning in the direction it came from, Ian looked across the street and spotted Violet by her mailbox waving at them.

Ever the gentlemen, they crossed the street to greet her, both of them giving her hugs.

"Good evening, Violet," said Quinn. "How was your day?"

She smiled at him. "It was lovely. Prudence and I had a good time walking on the bike path after our Elderhostel class at Luke."

Quinn smiled back. "Sounds delightful. I'm so glad you two are continuing your Anthropology courses with Dr. Sandford. He's one of the best professors in that department."

"He certainly is." Violet started to chuckle. "But Prudence used to call him a hippie. Once she got past his long hair, he became her favorite teacher."

Ian suppressed a snort; Prudence had been on a steep learning curve ever since Violet moved in with her, expanding her horizons to include the acceptance of married gay neighbors and a bohemian professor. Not to mention Sandford's husband, James. Higher education, indeed.

Instead, Ian waxed diplomatic, a skill he had honed to perfection under Quinn, an incomparable master. "We're lucky to have Dr. Sandford with us at Luke -- he used to teach at Raynor University in your native Washington State. But the Anthropology Department here won him away by giving him a tenure-track position."

Violet said, " Raynor's loss is our gain."

Ever courtly, Quinn did not want to keep Violet out in the chill of the evening for too long, so he gracefully concluded the conversation. "Say hello to Prudence for us. We'll see you next Saturday for our Scrabble tournament." He waved in farewell as she said goodnight.

"Goodbye, Violet," said Ian in return, then swung around with Quinn to cross the street towards home.

Quinn's eyes twinkled deep blue in the dusk as he put his arm around his lad. "We're lucky to have such good neighbors."

Ian gave Quinn's waist a gentle squeeze. "Don't I know it!"

Artoo and Sandy started yipping as soon as Ian and Quinn stepped on the path to the front door. When Ian opened the door, they got a proper welcome home from the pups, complete with wagging tails, loving licks, and jumping balls of fur. After a few minutes of playing, they took off their jackets and went to the kitchen.

Quinn rinsed out the puppies' dishes, then shook in fresh chow from the box for them, while Ian poured water from the tap into their bowls. They headed to different bathrooms and met in the bedroom afterwards to change into comfortable sweats.

By the time they made it back to the kitchen, the pups had finished eating, so Ian checked that all of the doors were locked for the night, and Quinn turned on the C-3PO night-light for Sandy and Artoo, just as they scrambled into their baskets. Then Quinn walked into the living room to start a fire in the fireplace, a wonderful luxury after the chill outdoors.

Too tired to watch television, they flopped down on the couch, with Ian in his favorite spot under Quinn's arm and resting his head on his herven's chest. The rustling of the fire, along with its variegated yellow light, was all but hypnotic. It warmed them through their clothing, making them sleepier than they already were.

Ian burrowed his hand under Quinn's Skyhawks sweatshirt, patting his stomach tenderly. "You feel so good, love," he whispered drowsily.

"So do you, lad," said Quinn, putting his hand over Ian's on top of his sweatshirt. As Ian's fingers moved under the cotton, Quinn's echoed them. Quinn smiled lazily into his husband's eyes. "I'm getting warmer already."

"I can see that, big fella," Ian said huskily, feeling a bit more awake now.

Quinn's hand found its own way under Ian's sweatshirt as he swooped down for a kiss, so passionate, so sweet. Ian could live on that kiss alone for weeks. He dove into the blue of Quinn's eyes when he kissed him back, not wanting to resurface anytime soon. Two kisses led to four, and geometrical progression did the rest. Ian threw his legs over Quinn's thighs, so that he was all but sitting on his lap, making it even easier to reach Quinn's lips.

They created their own private melody of sighs, moans, and stuttered breaths, as they fanned the flames of their passion and forgot all about the other fire burning on the hearth. Ian moved his legs off Quinn to give himself room to delve beneath Quinn's drawstring waistband, beneath his boxer-briefs, to let his fingertips go down the path to Quinn's erection. Frustrated by the restraining cotton of both sweatpants and underwear, Ian untied the drawstring of the pants to ease them down a few inches. Then he lovingly took Quinn's heavy penis out of its underwear pouch. Quinn let out a gasp when he was finally free, the air feeling wonderful on overheated flesh.

Now Ian was free, too -- he could tease and caress to his heart's content. And he knew just how to give his husband's sensitive skin the stimulation it needed. He grinned into deep blue eyes when he was rewarded by Quinn's cock surging eagerly into the palm of his hand.

"C'mon, c'mon!" said Quinn in an urgent growl, low and intense.

Ian felt pre-come welling out of his tip just at Quinn's tone. Needless to say, he obeyed that masterful command. He used the firm grip he knew Quinn preferred and ran his hand along the engorged cock. Each sound his husband made increased Ian's desire to give him a memorable orgasm.

He used his fingers as only a pianist could, letting them play over the hot, damp skin, making sure to spread pre-come to soothe the friction his hand was creating. His fingers could not fit around the shaft as it swelled even more.

With a triumphant shout, Quinn came in ecstatic bursts, resting his head on top of Ian's copper hair. They just sat there, easing down from Quinn's orgasmic high. "Love you, laddie," Quinn said, in a raspy whisper.

Even with his cock trying to escape his boxer-briefs, Ian said, "Love you, ma guid-man," and kept his erection away from Quinn's thigh.

But, of course, the big man knew the state his lad was in, since he had gotten him there himself. He reached out a tender hand to unknot Ian's sweatpants' drawstring, pushing the pants down so he could reach Ian's underwear. He locked eyes with Ian when he took his reddened penis out of its pouch, chuckling at Ian's yelp. "What's your pleasure, my boyo?"

Ian didn't think it was possible to get any harder. "Suck me. Please!" Quinn's lusty smile almost made his further attentions unnecessary.

Quinn reluctantly released his prize, so he could kneel on the carpet in front of Ian. He looked up at him, his delight with being in this position written all over his face. His right hand on the base of Ian's penis, Quinn started to tease the tip with his lips, nuzzling and kissing it. He took the glans into his mouth and suckled contentedly, while Ian let out the most inspiring groans.

Ian tried to pet Quinn's hair as he played with him, but he couldn't concentrate, with all of his senses engaged in the paradise Quinn was creating for him with his amazing mouth. Now, Quinn was deepening his suckles to go further up the shaft. "Oh, oh!" came his stuttering cry.

Quinn redoubled his efforts; he could tell his lad needed to come, and soon. An unexpected lick to the glans; the barest edge of a tooth against foreskin; a teasing tongue-tip to random parts of the shaft --that was it. Ian's hot cream flooded Quinn's mouth, and he swallowed all he could. The he rested his head on Ian's thigh, just as he had rested on Ian's hair earlier.

After a few moments, Ian urged him up to sit beside him once more. "There must be something in the autumn air," Ian said with a satisfied grin.

"I'm thinking of something a little closer to home," Quinn said, winking at his eremelda (beloved).


End file.
